


Alone in a Crowd

by AvengersCompound (emilyevanston)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Happy Steve Bingo, Kissing, Love, Slow Dancing, emotive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-29 10:48:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16742566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emilyevanston/pseuds/AvengersCompound
Summary: Dancing with you in the crowded club, you're the only two people in the room.For my Happy Steve Bingo fill:  Slow Dancing





	Alone in a Crowd

There are times that the world around you just fade away and it’s just you and one other person, and that’s all that exists.  Like the theory of relativity, only it’s not just time that is relative, it’s all of existence that changes based on your experience.

Like right now.  There was a club.  It was crowded and loud.  The dull roar of voices trying to be heard over the loud beat of the music.  Music that should by all counts be deafening. The kind of music that even after it’s stopped you still keep yelling because everything sounds muffled.  The people were crowded around the bar 4 or 5 deep trying to get the attention of the three bartenders on duty so they could lower their defenses more. The alcohol letting them talk with that stranger, dance with them, kiss them, maybe even take them home.

The dance floor itself was crowded.  People pressed together as they showed off moves, swayed, or just ground up against each other.  People bumped against each other simply due to the lack of space and the need to move. The sound of laughter and talking blended into the music like it was part of it.  Like it had always been part of it.

The smell should be overwhelming.  It was sweat and alcohol mixed together.  Sour and acrid and it clung to the air the way that sweat clung to the skin of the people on the floor.

These things existed.  They were real and tangible and they surrounded him on all sides.  Yet for Steve Rogers, none of it existed. There was just him. Tall and muscular.  His shirt wet at the back where he had sweated through. A bead now trickling down his brow and along the bridge of his nose.  Swaying to seemingly the sound of his heartbeat because it was all he could hear. And pressed against him, the heat from your skin radiating out, was you.

Nothing else existed.  He might as well have been dancing with you in a void where the only other thing that there was, was the beam of light coming down on you both and the warm air around him that lacked the correct amount number oxygen molecules because every breath he inhaled had just been exhaled by you.

He moved with you.  Slowly, deliberately, with a gentle swaying movement, around and around.  His eyes locked on your face and taking in every minute detail. The color of your eyes.  The pores on your nose. The thin film of sweat that made your skin shimmer slightly in the diffused light.  The lines that marked your skin that people called imperfections, but he just saw them as human and alive, making you even more beautiful to him.  On your brow and the corners of your eyes and the sides of your mouth. Whether they be deep and clear of faint and barely noticeable he took them all in.  His eyes kept flicking to your lips. The way you had painted them, a dark red that made him think back to when he was young. The small lines on them.  The enticing flick of your tongue over them anytime you noticed him looking.

He pulled you tighter.  There was no reason why he shouldn’t. It was only the two of you here in the void of space that had seemed to open up when he reluctantly agreed to dance in this place he hated.  Now it was gone and it was just you and him. He wondered if this was what he was waiting for. This had been why he had been waiting for the right partner. It wasn’t that he was embarrassed he didn’t know how to dance or that the other women looked down at him (literally and figuratively).  It was because when you slow dance the world around you ceases to exist. It’s intense and intimate. He leaned down and kissed you. First softly. Focusing on nothing but that flutter of your lips against his. Then deeper, caressing against each other, tongue tentatively slipping out and sliding over the corner of your mouth to taste you.  Salty from the sweat and sweet from the alcohol. Circling your tongue and dipping into your mouth.

He hated PDA, so it was good you were alone.

It was all good.  Everything about this felt right.  The kiss, the way your bodies moved, pressed against each other and encircled in each other's arms.  You.  You were the most right thing of all. The right partner he had been searching for.

You pulled back gently and the dance stopped.  All at once the world returned. Loud and cramped and pungent.  It was an assault on his senses and he furrowed his brow wanting nothing more than to get away from here again.

You leaned into his ear, your lips brushing over the shell.  “Do you want to go home?” You asked.

He nodded.  While he had enjoyed the dance, there was nothing more than being really truly alone with you again.


End file.
